


Drinks

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 04:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18422910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: "Er-- Just, just one thing, old chap, er..." Blouse leaned in, lowering his voice, and said, "You're not a woman, are you? In disguise, I mean?"A.E. Pessimal stared up at him, uncomprehending. "A woman?" he repeated. "No! Why would you think that?""Oh, thank the gods," Blouse said hurriedly, patting his shoulder and looking immensely relieved. "No reason, of course, no reason, ah... What can I get you to drink?"





	Drinks

“For Offler’s sake, just _talk_ to the man,” hissed Sally, shoving A.E. Pessimal in the shoulder, and the little man set his jaw, pressing his lips together very tightly and looking down into his empty mug. He glanced to the side, toward the bar.

They were Borogravians, the three gentlemen at the bar, two officers visiting Ankh-Morpork to liaise with some members of the Grand Trunk, and the other who _worked_ with the Grand Trunk, but he was Borogravian too, and they were talking in rapid Borogravian. The two men in uniform were striking: one of them was a vampire, A.E. was fairly certain, and the other one—

—swept off his helmet, and A.E. stared at the cascade of beautiful, golden hair that fell about her shoulders. Immediately, the vampire leaned in, catching her in a kiss, and A.E. swallowed, glancing from the two uniformed officers to the other Borogravian, who seemed…

Awkward.

“Do you think he’s handsome?” A.E. asked anxiously.

“I think he hasn’t got a chin,” said Sally.

“But that’s alright!” Cheri broke in immediately, giving Sally a stern look that didn’t affect her whatsoever. “He probably doesn’t need one,” she said in a tone of assurance.

“He’s nice,” said Angua, although she didn’t sound convinced. “The important thing is that _you_ like the look of him, A.E. Just go talk to him.”

“What if he says no?” A.E. asked. “What if he doesn’t like men?”

“Come and sit back down,” Sally said bluntly. “In the meantime, go up to him, state your intentions clearly and with confidence, and see what he says.”

“What if he thinks I’m ugly?” A.E. asked.

“He won’t think that,” said Cheri.

“Yes, he will,” Sally said. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t have sex with you.”

“ _Sally!”_ Cheri hissed, but A.E. was already on his feet, breathing in as he looked across the room at the man at the bar, looking at him as if he were a soldier on the battlefield. He _marched_ across the room, elbows swinging, seemingly incognizant of the way Sally was trying not to laugh behind him, right up to the man, who looked down at him owlishly from hazel-brown eyes.

“I want to buy you a drink!” A.E. blurted out, barking the words without quite meaning to. “Or— Or let you buy me one. As a precursor to romance, or sex, if you like.” There was a moment’s silence as the gentleman stared down at A.E., who wondered if he’d rather overshot the mark in stating his intentions clearly and with confidence.

The vampire laughed so hard he fell off his stool, and the other officer grabbed at him to keep him from falling, although she was also holding back laughter. “We’ll see you tomorrow, anyway, Blouse,” said the woman officer in Morporkian, dragging her boyfriend with her, and A.E. swallowed.

He had faced armed trolls; he had faced murderers; he had faced tax-evaders and monsters[1], not without fear, but certainly without hesitation, and content to do so. Facing a handsome(-ish) gentleman in a loose shirt open to his mid-chest, he felt his knees quivering.

“Hello,” said the gentleman in very easy Morporkian, sounding rather upper class, as he extended his hand. “I’m uh, Blouse, Francis, Francis Blouse, that is.”

“Inspector A.E. Pessimal,” A.E. said, shaking his hand. “Er— That is, the drink, may I…?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” said Blouse. A.E. felt his face fall. “I’ll buy _you_ a drink, of course,” Blouse said earnestly, a slight flush on his cheeks, and A.E. felt himself exhale in relief. "Er-- Just, just one thing, old chap, er..." Blouse leaned in, lowering his voice, and said, "You're not a woman, are you? In disguise, I mean?"

A.E. Pessimal stared up at him, uncomprehending. "A woman?" he repeated. "No! Why would you think that?"

"Oh, thank the gods," Blouse said hurriedly, patting his shoulder and looking immensely relieved. "No reason, of course, no reason, ah... What can I get you to drink?" He patted the stool next to him, and A.E. slowly moved up to sit next to him.

Blouse shivered.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Blouse said hurriedly, drawing a hand through his hair. “Just that, er, well, not that I’m— You know, just a drink, no obligation, but were it to be a precursor, that is, I, that…” He trailed off, apparently uncertain of how to go on. His cheeks were glowing red. “You’ve dreadfully pink lips, that’s all. Like peaches.”

Blouse’s prominent Adam’s apple bounced in his throat as if it were on a string.

“Oh,” A.E. said. “Thank you.”

“Not at all,” Blouse said.

They drank, once the barman had set their order down, in silence. It was a tense silence, fraught with uncertainty, as each of them wondered what to ask the other man, and kept shooting down various questions in his own head, thinking them too personal or too boring or too aggressive or too _whatever_.

Finally, A.E. said, with confidence and clarity, “I am going to kiss you now.”

“Oh,” Blouse said breathlessly. “Jolly good.”

And he did.

(And it was _good._ )

 

[1] In the eyes of one A.E. Pessimal, these two were one and the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up [on Dreamwidth](https://dictionarywrites.dreamwidth.org/2287.html). You can send requests [on Tumblr](http://patricianandclerk.tumblr.com/ask), too. Requests always open.


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